Number 6642
by Salem Navy
Summary: No one smiles anymore. No on laughs anymore. No one feels anymore. Life in the compound is certainly different... especially when you have a swarm of undead constantly trying to get in. Eventual Rizzles (of course).
1. Run!

**Title: Number 6642**

**Author: Salem Navy**

**Pairing: Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles (EVENTUALLY)**

**Rating: T (for now... you never know with me).**

_**So I've been dying to write a zombie fic and I sat down with my computer... then this came out. Basically, I'm just trying to get my muse flowing again. This is what the crazy bitch came up with. I have a basic outline of what's going to happen, but any ideas you have or something you wanna see, throw it at me. I could always use some help. **_

_**P.S. I don't use a beta because I don't have the patience for the whole triple editing process or whatever. So all mistakes and shitty word choices are my own.**_

_**XOXOXOX**_

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A number. That's all we were once we entered the compound. As soon as my foot stepped over the threshold, I lost my identity. Truth be told, I didn't even care anymore. I'd already lost everything else. Everyone else.

To them, I wasn't Jane Rizzoli, a decorated Boston Homicide Police Detective and local hero. To them, I was simply 6642 (that's the last four digits of my social security number, in case you were wondering). They'd taken my clothes, my gun and my badge. But again, I didn't care.

I stood there as they scanned my eyes, poked and prodded every inch of my skin. Vials of my blood were being passed around the room from nurse to nurse as they labeled every one of them with my number, before sealing them in some space container and shipping them off to god knows where. It was a precaution of course. All of this was. To make sure I wasn't infected. I would have to stay holed up in this room for a few days, alone, until they received the results from all of my blood tests; until they could make sure, with absolutely certainty that I wasn't going to turn. After one of the guard's faces had gotten ripped off a few weeks ago by one of the undead (inside the compound, may I add), they weren't taking any chances.

But I didn't mind being alone. Not after everything I'd been through and everything I'd seen. I'd lost everyone as it was. I couldn't get any more alone than that.

After they'd finished helping me scrub down under the spray of the shower, rinsing every speck of dirt and every possible seed of infection from my skin, one of the nurses handed me the outfit I was supposed to wear. It was silver and it even smelled like metal. Basically, it was a giant metallic onesie, complete with feeties. The only thing missing was my diaper and bib. I scowled as the one remaining nurse in my room zipped it up in the back, informing me that I was not to remove it and showing me how to work the flap covering my ass for when I needed to go to the bathroom. How pleasant. She gave me one last look as she exited the small concrete room and I could see the sympathy in her eyes as she closed the door behind her. The steel door wouldn't be opened again for 72 hours and there was just enough room under it for them to slide my daily meals. Little did they know, I didn't plan on eating anyways.

Running my hand through my still damp curls, I decided to give myself the grand tour of my oh-so-spacious room. There were exactly 10 steps from wall to wall, a perfect square, complete with a small bed in the corner (one that looked like it had been slept on by thousands of Boston's nastiest prisoners), a toilet and a sink. Wow… they sure knew how to make a gal feel at home. The best part of my very own personal oasis was the window that looked out across the compound. I could see people trudging along in the streets, all with glum looks on their faces. No doubt, they'd also lost some loved ones in this crazy catastrophe. I searched, hoping to see one person with a smile on their face, needing to know that perhaps there could be some semblance of happiness out there somewhere, but there were no smiles. There was no laughter. It was still too soon for that.

I can barely remember how it all started. One minute, I was down in autopsy with Maura, eating a peanut butter and fluff sandwich while she dug through some poor shmucks organs, and next thing I know, Korsak is barging in screaming something about an outbreak and evacuations and he even threw the word militia in there somewhere. Personally, I think he just said that last part because he wanted to sound smart.

That was exactly 33 days ago.

However, that's not the number I even cared to remember anymore. Five. That's the number I held on to. Five days since I had last seen Maura, my mother, Frost, Frankie, Korsak… all of them. We'd decided to split up (and by _we_, what I really mean is _me_, Number 6642). God, what a stupid fucking idea! But when you're huddled in a corner with three bullets left in your gun, surrounded by eight of the undead, it's pretty much the only idea you have.

I'd stood there shaking with Frost and Korsak at my side, their guns also trained on these mangled looking undead motherfuckers. I could hear my mother's quiet sobs behind me and Maura mumbling words of encouragement in her ear as she held up a barely coherent Frankie. The plan was simple really. Frost and Korsak each had only one bullet left. That's five bullets and eight slobbering stumbling undead, just in case you lost count. They would shoot the two on the left end, giving ma, Frankie and Maura a chance to make a break for it. It was inevitable that once they took those shots, all hell would break loose, but I was ready. I was prepared (with three damn bullets). What I forgot to mention in all of this is that Frost apparently is a really lousy shot and when he pulled the trigger all he managed to do was blow the redheaded undead's ear off. But the three behind us made a break for it nonetheless after Korsak's bullet left a decent sized hole in preacher undead's skull and what was left of his brains splattered all over the ground behind him. He dropped like… well, a dead guy.

And before I knew it, they were on us. I fired one of my bullets into redhead undead and she bit the dust just before she was able to grasp onto Maura.

"Run!" I would hear that word repeated in my head for the rest of forever. I was sure of it. I just kept screaming it as my best friend ran off with my two remaining family members, and Frost just a few steps behind them.

At this point, I only had two bullets left and six blood-oozing undead getting ready to charge after me and Korsak. I wasn't worried about roly-poly undead. He looked a little slow seeing as how he weighed four times as much as Vince. And I was fairly certain that I could outrun the undead version of Old Man Stevens (he had lived a few doors down from me… what a small world). Unfortunately, I wasn't so sure about the other four. I didn't really have much time to think about it though because before I knew it they were charging and Korsak was pushing me out of the way. I stumbled slightly before I heard him yelling the same word I'd screamed only moments earlier.

"Run!"

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**_Kinda short to start off with (this may end up being the length of most of the chapters as I'm trying to get it out as quickly as it comes to me... but who knows). If you're interested in me continuing with this, leave me some reviews and let me know what you think. They will be much appreciated!_**


	2. To the Bunks

_**Here is Chapter 2! I greatly appreciate all the follows, but leave some reviews, lovelies. How are you liking it so far?**_

_**Oh and I forgot to insert a disclaimer before so... all characters belong to Tess and Janet and all kinds of other people that aren't me. I'm just going to borrow and play with them for a little while. **_

_**And once again, I don't use a beta. Mistakes are my own and if you see anything blatantly obvious and annoying, let me know so I can fix it. MUCH APPRECIATED!**_

_**XOXOX**_

* * *

"Number 6642!"

I jerked awake as I heard a booming voice call my name… I mean my number. I ran a palm through my greasy hair, trying my best to wake myself up with a few quick shakes of my head.

"Let's get a move on. Your 72 hours is up and the line of people is getting longer by the minute. We need this room."

I could tell just by looking that this guy in the long white lab coat was a jackass. His ashy brown hair was thinning around the top, leaving a gleaming bald spot in its wake, and he kept crumpling his hands into fists like he was ready to punch something. Maybe he was, I wasn't really sure. All I knew was that if he decided to punch me, I was gonna give his face a pounding that would make even the undead look pretty.

"6642, get up! We need…"

"Alright, alright," I grumbled. "I know. You need the room. Give me a damn second, will ya?"

"Sass won't get you anywhere in here. No matter who you were on the outside."

I didn't even give him the satisfaction of correcting his grammar to _whom_ (what?! Maura taught me a few things), but I did leave him with a snazzy eye-roll as I stepped into the hallway and was once again face-to-face with Nurse Sympathy-Eyes. I couldn't take her pity right now. I'd just spent the past three days in solitary lock-up and the last thing I needed was some baby faced RN looking at me like I'd just lost everything.

Technically I had lost everything, but that wasn't any of her business.

"Take her down to the bunks." That was the last thing I heard the asshat guy in a lab coat say before the nurse led me away.

I didn't know much about the compound. No one on the outside did really and I wasn't too proud to admit that the idea of trudging along behind this nurse to some bunker had me shaking in my shiny metallic onesie.

I felt like we'd been walking for ten minutes, down narrow hallways—a left here, a right there— before we finally made it outside. I waited for the breeze to caress my skin, the way it used to after a long day stuck in the bullpen and I'd finally step outside of the BPD, but nothing happened. The air around me was thick with smog. The streets were dark and damp, smelling of rotting food or possibly the rotting flesh of the undead that walked around outside the compound. Everything was brown and gray. No color anywhere. Maura would hate it here.

And that name alone shattered me to the core. _Maura_.

It had been eight days now, eight long days since I'd ran in the opposite direction, hoping to give my family a chance to get away. It had been eight days since Vince Korsak had saved my life.

"Run!" I heard that word again, repeating in my head as it always did.

I wish I'd never glanced back as I'd run away. I wish there had been more bullets in my gun. Then maybe, just maybe, I would have been able to save Korsak too.

But I had looked back and the last image I'd ever have of my old partner was seeing him swarmed by four undead as he tried his best to fight them off, his arms flailing in all directions before he'd finally fallen to the ground. I couldn't stop though. I couldn't go back for him. That was the one thing we'd all learned early on when Frankie had tried to save Tommy.

My only choice was to run. That's what I kept telling myself. I couldn't have saved him. There's nothing I could have done.

My heart was hammering in my chest, pounding so quickly that it was reverberating in my ears. I stumbled, just like every other bimbo in some B-rated horror movie and as my knees connected with the ground beneath me, bits of gravel scraping into my skin, I realized that I wasn't alone. I rolled over just in time to fire one of my two remaining bullets into the dead version of Old Man Stevens. I had to give him some credit… he was faster than I'd originally anticipated.

I shuffled to my feet as quickly as I could, wincing as the blood began to seep from my wounds.

"Number 6642!"

Nurse Pity-Pants was trying to get my attention now and by the look on her face, it wasn't the first time she'd called my… number.

I glanced up, realizing that we were stopped in front of a wide open room, bunk beds lining the left wall with a common area set off in the right corner. I was assuming, by the lone unmade bed with my number taped to the side and a pile of flannel shirts on top, that this is where I'd be spending the rest of my miserable days.

"Most people don't stay in here much during the day," she informed me. "It's nice to get in every little bit of sunshine before lockdown just after dusk. Number 1418 should be here shortly though to explain things." She pointed a bony finger across the room at the unmade bed. "That tiny little twin mattress will be your best friend for a while. I'm sorry."

I could tell that she really did feel bad about the fact that I would be sleeping on a bed that was shorter than I was, surrounded by at least a dozen other people that I didn't know. However, I didn't have much time to dwell on it before a leggy platinum blonde walked into the room. In my head, I could hear myself let out a wolf whistle because seriously, this woman had some legs on her. They were long, lean, golden tan and…

"Hey." Blondie said this simply, with a nod of the head that reminded me of the way guys would just look at each other and say 'sup' like it was the coolest thing in the world. "I'll take it from here," she continued, speaking to Nurse Sad Face.

With a slight wave of her hand, the nurse walked out and left us standing there in an awkward silence; me in my silver jumpsuit and her with hands resting on her hips, looking at me like I was some sad-sack (which wasn't far from the truth). And I didn't know if I was supposed to introduce myself as Jane or Number 6642. Technically, I didn't care. As uncomfortable as that twin-sized cot looked, all I wanted to do was lie on it, slipping away into oblivion. I wanted everyone to leave me alone. I wanted to go back to solitary so that I didn't have to talk to anyone, look at anyone or try and explain the terrible ache that I had in my chest from losing everyone I loved.

"Those clothes are yours," Blondie said, gesturing to the couple of flannel shirts and what looked like solid black leggings. There was a pair of combat boots sitting on the floor as well with some dingy worn socks stuffed inside of them. That outfit was certain to help me make a fashion statement. "You'll be able to get more clothes in a few days. Unfortunately, this was all that was available right now."

She carried a sadness in her voice, one that I recognized and part of me itched to start up a conversation with her, to share with her what I'd been through; maybe compare some notes on how horrible our situations were. But I wasn't going to. I just wasn't that open, not with anyone… except Maura.

A lump rose in my throat once again, just like every time I thought about her.

"I think I'd like to maybe lay down for a bit," I mumbled, scuffing my foot across the ugly concrete floor. "If that's alright." I wasn't normally the type to qualify my statements and basically ask for permission, but I wasn't badass Jane Rizzoli here. I was Number 6642 and all traces of my identity had been washed away eight long days ago.

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**_I know it's kind of slow moving at the moment, but we'll have plenty of undead and ruckus and all that jazz in no time. Until then, motivate me with some reviews! Please and thanks :) _**


	3. Don't Forget Maura

_**It's a slow moving kinda story... trust me, dears, I know. Give it some time and leave some reviews if you're willing!**_

_**As always, all spelling errors, bad grammar and shitty writing are my own ;)**_

_**XOXO**_

* * *

I awoke with a fine sheath of sweat coating my skin, surrounded by about a dozen strangers, letting out quiet breaths and snores in their sleep. The bare skin of my abdomen scratched against the itchy nylon bed sheets as I tried to get comfortable again. After Blondie had left me earlier with just a simple nod of her head, I'd quickly stripped off the silver jumpsuit and shoved it unceremoniously under my twin sized bed. I took a moment to stand there in my shabby bra and mismatched underwear before deciding to slip beneath the covers, not caring who would see me strolling around less than half dressed. I had no shame anymore as it was; it had disappeared along with my pride and dignity just over a week ago.

I no longer had a care in the world. At this point, I didn't even care if I survived.

I spent a few more moments trying to situate myself on the cardboard-like mattress before getting up completely and planting my feet on the ground with a huff. I hurriedly dressed in my fading flannel shirt and slightly worn leggings (opting not to put on the combat boots so that I wouldn't make a ruckus on my way to… wherever the hell I decided I was going).

Squinting, I tried to take in my surroundings, glancing every which way around the dimly lit room. It was only as my gaze settled on the door that I noticed Blondie sitting on the floor beside it. Our eyes locked momentarily as she got to her feet, preparing to leave, motioning for me to follow with a jerk of her head.

We walked down the long stretch of hallway in silence, with me only vaguely aware of the fact that I wasn't wearing shoes. It was only when I saw that we were approaching a door, which I was sure led outside, that I dared to open my mouth.

"I thought the whole compound went on lockdown after dark?" My voice was even deeper than normal, still hoarse from my recent slumber.

"This area is a little different. You'll see," Blondie replied, pulling on the rusty handle with a flourish.

To say I was awed would be an understatement. It had been at least a month since I'd seen anything so green, so fresh or so alive. After the outbreak, everything had begun to expire, not just the people. Death always hung in the air; the smell of it, the look of it and sometimes I swore I could even taste it. The copper tang of blood was always lingering on my tongue. Maura's garden had been one of the first things to wither and every day we'd sit on the back patio, grasping at the last few strands of daylight, as we watched the petals drop off of the flowers to land helplessly on the ground.

Those were the memories I'd cherished the most; my last few weeks with Maura and with my family. After the undead began taking over all of Boston, Maura, my family, Korsak, Frost and I all took up refuge in her home. We needed a plan to get out of the city. We needed a plan to get to the compound that lay just on the outskirts of Chicopee. We needed a plan to survive. It wasn't until the undead stormed into Beacon Hill late one night that we actually put our plan into action. I always think that maybe if we hadn't waited, if we hadn't spent so much time theorizing and praying for everything to just go back to normal, then Tommy would still be alive.

Ma's screams are what woke me. I shot up from Maura's bed, immediately grabbing my gun that lay loaded on the nightstand before rushing down stairs at lightning speed. If Detective Rizzoli was fast, scared-shitless Jane Rizzoli was unstoppable. I could see them, all of the undead, banging against the doors; the skin peeling off their faces, their hands mangled and torn, blood dripping from their mouths. We needed a way out of the home we'd originally considered to be our safe haven.

In a house full of some of Boston's finest officers and detectives, and the smartest woman in the entire state (Maura, not me), not a single one of us had a solid plan of escape.

It was the resident dumbass (Tommy, again not me) that made the decision for us. He'd always wanted to be a hero and not just some drunken fuck-up that had done time in the pen. While I'll always remember him in his last moments, full of pride, wanting so much to be brave, that doesn't excuse the fact that his next move wasn't nearly as calculated as it could have been… especially since he had a _beautiful mind _and all.

"Hey, you still with me?" Blondie's voice tore me from my memories, reminding me once again that I was here alone. No family. No Maura.

I blinked my eyes rapidly as I spared her a glance. "Yeah. Sorry it's just been... this is all…"

"Don't worry about it. Trust me, I get it." She took a seat on a small rickety bench that sat off to the left side of the door before pulling out a cigarette. It was so quiet in here that I could hear it burning, the paper receding with every inhale. "Want one?"

I just shook my head.

"This is the last bit of life left for miles, the last bit of sanctuary," she whispered, almost as if she was afraid of being heard. I was fascinated by the smoke that billowed out of her perfect mouth with every word, watching as it lingered in the air for a few moments before disappearing.

"I fought for this. It's not much, but when you spend every day out in this new dark and dreary world…" She let her sentence trail-off, another puff of smoke going with it.

"So it's yours?" The question sounded stupid as soon as I said it, but I felt like I needed to understand her.

A slight nod of her head, another wisp of smoke from that damn intoxicating cigarette and I finally sat down next to her, the bench creaking under my added weight.

"I just wanted a greenhouse. I wanted to breathe in life."

I felt the need to laugh, the irony of her sucking on a cancer-stick not lost on me, so I did. Then once I started, I couldn't stop. I laughed until tears were rolling down my face. I laughed until I my stomach hurt. I laughed until I could hardly breathe. And the best part, she began laughing with me; the sounds of our amusement mingling together in the air.

"Man, I needed that," I sighed once I was finally able to catch my breath.

She didn't say anything for a while and instead let the silence engulf us once again.

So I sat there with my thoughts, trying not to let my mind drift to Maura. But it was so damn hard because I was always thinking about Maura. I was terrified of forgetting her, of forgetting anything about her. I was afraid that one day I would wake up and not remember the way she smelled, the sound of her laughter, the way her honey-golden hair would shimmer in the sun. The undead weren't nearly as frightening as the thought of losing Maura Isles completely… the thought of losing Maura forever.


	4. Almost

**_Sorry for the delay. Been a little busy this past week or so. Hope y'all are still with me! Things will definitely start picking up in the next chapter so leave me some reviews if you're willing. Give me some motivation, my loves._**

**_XOXOX_**

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I learned a few things about Blondie over those next few nights...

Like how her actual name was Barbie because apparently her mother had a wicked sense of humor. And I never would've guessed that this leggy tan blonde was ex-military. Or that this greenhouse we were currently sitting in, for the umpteenth night in a row, was repayment for her services; a gift of gratitude for what she'd had to endure, for what she'd had to do.

But we didn't really talk much when we were here. She would sit there, smoking cigarettes, and sometimes I would be sitting there on that dry-rotting bench with her. Other nights I would walk around, admiring the plants and the life, thinking about Maura and how much she would love it here. Or thinking about how much I hated it.

"Rizz," I heard Barbie call my name as I ran my finger across a wilting flower petal. (She'd resorted to calling me Rizz the Frizz because she said that Jane was too boring… and because my unruly curls had taken on an entire new texture since entering the compound.) "Do you think things will ever get better here?"

This had become a thing of ours, theorizing and coming up with scenarios that would make life in the compound better. Things that would make living in the compound bearable. It was how we'd actually come to know each other. It was too painful to recap our pasts, but pretending that one day my family and Maura would show up, telling Barbie about my picturesque life in the compound helped breathe a little life into each surpassing day. She'd told me about how she hoped to one day wake up and see her mom, standing there in the rubble at the front gate, but we both knew that was impossible. I didn't know the surrounding circumstances, but I was well aware that Barbie's mother hadn't survived the initial onslaught of the undead.

She was as dead as Korsak and Tommy, as dead as the rest of my family… as dead as Maura.

I exhaled slowly as I walked back over towards her. "I think this dreary old place has some potential. A few splashes of paint and it'll be good as new." I tried to joke, making my voice sound jovial as I shrugged my shoulders, not wanting to get into this tonight. I didn't want our conversation to take the turn it always did. I didn't want to talk about Maura.

"She could still be alive, you know."

This girl already knew me too well.

"I don't want to get my hopes up," I answered stiffly as I walked past her, breezing through the rusty door and down the hall to my bunk. I'd only done this once before, left Barbie sitting outside alone, but I wasn't in the mood tonight.

The tears stung my eyes as I stripped out of my clothes and laid beneath my sheets, pulling them over my head just in case someone around me could see my eyes shining in the darkness.

I didn't know anyone here besides Barbie. I hadn't made an effort to really talk to anyone, not even during our meals in the mess hall. I couldn't risk getting close to people and losing them. I wouldn't survive heartbreak like this ever again.

This place was making me crazy. Earlier that morning, I could've sworn that I saw ma. Of course this wasn't anything new; I often saw them all in my waking hours. I'd catch a glimpse of Maura in someone's honey-blonde hair or I'd see Korsak as I stared into an old man's kind eyes. Their faces haunted me constantly, especially in my dreams.

Yet somehow seeing ma this time had felt different. Everything about this woman was the same, from her long light brown hair to the way she smiled softly at a passing child. At one point I even considered calling out for her, but last time I'd yelled out for a member of my family, it hadn't been them. I wasn't willing to let myself face that kind of disappointment again.

I spent most of my days thinking about how they could all still be alive, how they could've made it the 90 miles from Boston to Chicopee. Unfortunately, along with hoping for and imagining their success throughout the journey, I could also easily picture their demises. I'd watched Korsak die right in front of me and his final moments often replayed themselves in my nightmares; the way his arm had reached out one last time, perhaps praying to grasp onto something tangible and pull himself from the mouths of the undead. I thought that would be the worst thing I could dream about, but nothing would compare to a few nights ago when the face of Maura Isles had occupied my sleep.

An undead Maura… coming after me. I'd had two choices then, I could run or I could kill her. She wasn't Maura anymore and as I'd pulled my gun out of my holster, preparing to put her out of her misery, something in her eyes caught my attention. A glimpse of green with those dazzling gold flecks catching in the sun. She was still Maura and I couldn't… I couldn't shoot her.

I'd awoken soaked in my own sweat, as I often did, crying my eyes out (which again wasn't anything new). I couldn't decide what would be worse, finding out that Maura hadn't survived or seeing the woman I felt everything for become one of the undead.

I peeked out from under my blanket as I heard the door click shut, seeing Barbie's face bathed in the moonlight from a nearby window. I knew what was coming next as she motioned for me to follow her to her private bunk that sat off to the side of the room. She was kinda like the R.A. to all of us; as if we were a bunch of rowdy college kids that couldn't control our excessive drinking or recreational drug use. I trailed behind her, slipping into the small space just as she closed the door. This had become another routine of ours, oddly enough. I stood there for a moment in my frayed gray spaghetti strap and solid black underwear, feeling her electric blue eyes gazing over my olive-tanned skin. I sighed in contentment as she pulled back the covers of her queen sized bed, gesturing for me to lie down.

Her sheets were softer than mine, less itchy. Her mattress was plush, unlike my cardboard one. Her pillows were full while mine were flat as pancakes. I told myself that's why I did it. I told myself that's why I felt comfortable when she'd slide next to me, slipping her arms around me in the blackness of her room, but I wasn't entirely convinced. I missed feeling someone's heart beating next to mine. I missed the smell of someone else's scent surrounding me in the night. I missed the way her hair used to tickle my cheek as we slept. I missed the way she would grunt every time I moved around in the bed. I missed the way her sleepy hazel eyes would look so innocent in the morning, still lidded from a night of contented sleep.

I wasn't sure when I'd begun comparing Barbie to Maura or when I'd allowed myself to become so comfortable with this woman (I mean, I was sharing a bed with her for crying out loud), but it had happened all the same. If I closed my eyes hard enough, running my fingers across the hand that fell across my waist, I could almost picture Maura next to me instead of her. I could almost let myself pretend that it was Maura I would wake up to in the morning. Almost.

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**_Of course, grammatical errors and etc. are my own. Let me know if you catch anything blatantly obvious and annoying that I missed._**

**_And let me know what you think!_**


	5. Where Are They?

**_Um, yeah... so just realized I kinda hadn't updated this in awhile. _**

**_Thank y'all for the reviews, follows and favorites! But if you feel like it, maybe leave a few more reviews? ...ya know, as motivation ;)_**

**_XOXO_**

* * *

I awoke to the feel of her eyes locked onto me, just like they always were in the early morning hours. Her fingers brushed a stray curl from my forehead as her warm breath caressed my face. We both knew I wouldn't open my eyes until Barbie got up; I'd keep my breathing steady and even, pretending to sleep, while she continued to pretend not to notice.

The bed shifted as she got up and it wasn't until I heard her slipping on her jeans that I allowed my coffee brown eyes to open, quickly throwing an arm over my face to block out the early morning sun that streamed in through the small cell-block sized window.

"Maybe you should actually go to breakfast this morning," Barbie suggested as she buttoned up her shirt. "Get out of this room. Meet some people."

I had hardly left her room in two days, not since I thought I'd seen ma wandering around in the compound. I was afraid I'd catch another glimpse of that woman. I was afraid to face that disappointment again. I was afraid to feel anything again.

To put it simply, Jane Rizzoli, Number 6642, had become a chicken shit.

I grumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'go to hell' before turning away from her and burrowing back underneath the blanket. She sighed rather dramatically before slamming the door, leaving me to wallow in silence. No one needed to tell me that I was acting ridiculous; I already knew. I couldn't spend the rest of my life in self-imposed solitary, but there was nothing for me outside of this room. No ma, no Frankie, no Frost, Tommy, Korsak… no Maura.

It wasn't long before I felt the tears burning in my eyes, threatening to fall just like they did every morning. I wasn't used to being so alone and cut off from everyone else. But I couldn't bring myself to change my own circumstances. There wasn't anything out there anymore except heartbreak and misery.

A few hours later, after I'd spent an efficient amount of time crying and sobbing like an overgrown child, I decided that perhaps I was ready to venture outside (mainly because my stomach was growling and I the scent of lasagna was wafting through the bunks). Throwing the covers off of me, I walked out of Barbie's room towards my little cardboard mattress of a bed and pulled on a pair of tattered jeans and a clean tank top.

The first few moments of sunlight burned my eyes as I strolled out into the hub of our little rundown compound. This was always the busiest time of day, with many people rushing to the mess hall in hopes of not having to eat the cold burnt food that was left at the end of lunch. While the grub here wasn't terrible, it certainly wasn't something to write home about. _Home._ I let out a quick scoff.

Today was lasagna day; just like every Thursday before and probably every Thursday after. It was nothing like ma's cooking with its still hard noodles stuffed somewhere in the middle, but anything was better than Sunday's meal (overcooked hard-as-a-rock pizza… which I'm fairly sure they seasoned with dried up grass or something).

I was bombarded with noise as I swung open the doors of the mess hall, people's voices reverberating all around me. With a population of a little less than 300, pretty much everyone knew everyone. Except me. I didn't know anyone, unless you counted Barbie. But like I said before, I didn't want to.

"Oh, sorry!"

I looked down to see a little blonde boy splayed out at my feet after running straight into my legs. He couldn't have been older than five, maybe six. My heart immediately ached, thinking about how much he reminded me of TJ… if TJ lived to his age. I hadn't seen him or Lydia since a few days into the outbreak.

I didn't even get the chance to tell the kid no worries as he scampered off, following behind a group of laughing children, all of them unaware of the horrible world that lurked outside of the compound.

I stood in line for a few minutes before grabbing my tray of already cold lasagna and plopping down at a nearby table. If you ate it fast enough, you could almost ignore the metallic taste that lingered from the pans it had been sitting in for the past few hours. _Almost._

"You know, most people that eat like that just got let out of the pen," Barbie laughed as she took the seat across from me. Her blonde hair was in perfect ringlets today and her blue eyes sparkled in the unnatural florescent lighting. I couldn't help but stare at her… um, assets (which she often showed off in tight spaghetti strap shirts and a push up bra). Where the hell she found a push up bra in today's world I'll never know. While Barbie constantly looked like she'd just stepped off the beach with her perfectly tanned skin and naturally flushed cheeks, I could barely manage to remember to brush my hair. "Jeez, Rizz. My eyes are up here." She motioned to her face where I glanced only momentarily before continuing to shovel food in my mouth like some uncivilized cavewoman.

She was used to it by now though. I had a lot of pent of frustration (some of it… most of it sexual) and I couldn't deny the fact that Barbie was hot stuff. I spent a lot of time looking and she spent a lot of time flaunting, but it didn't go much beyond that unless you counted our sleepovers. We both knew I was still too wrapped up in Maura Isles to even think about pursing anything beyond friendship.

I stood quickly, leaving with a subtle nod of my head before throwing the bent metal lunch tray into the wash bin and making my way back outside. I was certainly not in the mood for conversation or over the top flirting today.

And then I saw her again. _Ma._

There she was; standing in the center of the compound, going through the bins of clothes that sat under a beaten up tarp. I almost couldn't believe it. Her hair was slightly matted, her skin a little dingier, her smile a little more solemn, but that laugh… I would've recognized that laugh anywhere.

"Ma!" And before I could stop myself, I was running towards her, crying as I threw myself into her arms. She stood there for a moment in shock before I felt the shirt she had been holding drop to the ground and she pulled me closer to her.

"Janie," she whispered, her breath tickling against my unruly curls, her hands running over my arms as if she was making sure I was real. I could feel her tears against my skin as she pressed kisses against my forehead, my cheeks, and my nose. "Janie."

It was as if her voice was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. My heart was hammering in my chest and I couldn't control the sobs that wracked my body; the way I trembled in her arms.

Finally, what felt like hours later, she took a step back and placed her hands on either side of my face. She scanned every inch of me before looking into my eyes, and it was then that I truly saw her smile. That was the smile I remembered.

"Yesterday," I stammered, my voice raspier than normal from crying, "I saw you, but I wasn't sure it was you. I just thought… I thought I was going crazy. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry."

"Janie." She just said my name another time, as if she'd been afraid she would never get to say it again. "You're alive."

I nodded as her thumbs rubbed under my eyes, wiping away the tears. It was then that I realized she was alone. "Ma, where… where are they? Frost and Frankie and… and Maura?"

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry."

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_**I'm working on it y'all. Not the best chapter, but I need a little pick me up. Anyone out there? Review? (What if I say... PLEASE?!)**_


	6. Nowhere To Go

**_Since y'all are so awesome, I decided to post Chapter 6 RIGHT NOW :)_**

**_Read, enjoy... and review?_**

**_XOXO_**

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_"Jane…" _

_ Her breath brushed against my cheek as she leaned over to whisper in my ear. I could feel my heart skip a beat; speeding up as she ran her hand along my arm, her nails scraping lightly against my skin. Every inch of my flesh was on fire, burning with want and need. _

_ I wanted to be surrounded by her. I needed to be inside of her. _

_ "Touch me, Jane. Please," she begged._

_ And I couldn't resist that voice, dripping with sultry sex. It was so different than how I was used to hearing her. It was new and I was immediately addicted to it. I wondered what else I could make her say, what other sounds I could cause to leave that perfect mouth. _

_ My fingertips slid along her inner thigh, grazing lightly over silky smooth skin, pulling a long drawn out moan from deep inside her throat. I wanted to hear it again. I wanted to hear it forever… but we didn't have forever. For all we knew, we only had tonight and I was too selfish, too greedy, to let it end so quickly._

_ "Maura," I whimpered…_

I rubbed my eyes as I began to wake up, my heart sinking as I realized that it had just been a dream, a memory. The first time I touched her so intimately would also be the last.

Frankie lay in front of me, his body frail and small on the infirmary bed, his skin pale and sweaty. He wasn't quite out of the woods just yet. They were still monitoring him for the possibility of an infection and his condition made him more susceptible to becoming one of the undead. But at least he was no longer locked up in solitary.

Ma, Frankie and Frost had arrived in the compound just over a week ago. They'd each spent the mandatory three days in lock-up, but they kept Frankie alone for a little while longer… for obvious reasons. I was so thankful to see him in front of me, alive and breathing (even if he was hooked up to monitors and IVs), that I didn't care that he'd spend the rest of his life, however long that may be, a little different from everyone else.

He'd only woken up a few times since getting here. Frost had basically drug him through the front gates of the compound, begging for help, with ma only a few steps behind still screaming and crying because they'd lost Maura. _My Maura._

"Janie." I looked over to see my little brother opening his eyes, a tiny smile gracing his features as his gaze lingered over my unkempt appearance. "You look like shit."

"I could say the same to you," I teased, glad that we were able to immediately resume our normal banter. "I didn't think I'd ever get to see you again." Trying to keep the tears out of my voice was useless and Frankie caught on instantly, but I had to keep talking. I had to let him know how glad I was to see him alive, how happy I was to not be alone anymore, how great it felt to have my family back even though I'd never have Maura again. "God, Frankie. It's been hell the past few weeks. 17 days without you guys and I literally thought I was going certifiably insane. When I saw ma, it was like being broken down and rebuilt all in that one moment. And when she told me that you and Frost had made it also, it was like everything was… everything was almost whole again."

"They tried, Jane. They really did and I think that maybe if they'd just left me, as useless as I was, she could've made it. I was just dead weight to them. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry." I could detect the tremor in his words as he tried not to crack. He felt guilty, like losing Maura was his fault, but I couldn't blame him. I couldn't let him live thinking that he was the reason Maura Isles was dead.

I took a deep breath before standing and patting him on his one remaining leg. "She wouldn't have let them leave you. We both know that."

Frankie only nodded as I walked out, him knowing right off the bat that I wouldn't be able to talk about Maura. I may never be able to talk about her ever again.

Left, right, two more lefts, another right, right at the fork and a left down the narrow darkened hallway. This entire place was a maze, every building connected… just in case the undead ever made it through the gates or over the walls. There would still be a chance for everyone to survive underground where they couldn't get us. At least, that's what the militia hoped.

I took the stairs leading up to the chapel before lighting a candle. A candle for Maura. I tried not to cry as I thought about her. I wanted to forget how her skin felt against mine. I wanted to forget the way her scent surrounded me as I placed delicate kisses from her knee up to her inner thighs. I wanted to forget the way she tasted on my tongue. I wanted to forget the way it sounded when she moaned my name or the way her back arched when she finally came, the way her small hands tangled in my dark hair.

But as much as I wanted to forget everything about Maura… it was also everything I wanted to remember.

I could only sit in the chapel for a moment, with the air so thick that I could barely breathe. She was everywhere, in everything, and I needed to get away.

The chapel doors flew open with a loud crash as I rushed down the steps and out into the fresh morning sunlight. Death. I could still smell it. I could always smell it. And it was made even worse by knowing that the scent of Maura's death was mixed in that air; that somewhere out there, her blood had been spilled on the ground.

I dropped to my knees by the steps, a small cloud of dust flying up where my hands connected with the dirt as I dry-heaved, needing to purge myself of my thoughts and my memories… and that smell. People didn't stop and stare like they would've before the outbreak. It wasn't uncommon to see some poor shmuck puking in the alleyway as you walked through the Hub. Everyone was sick here, for different reasons and in different ways, but sick all the same. This wasn't living and we all knew it. How do you live when you've already lost so much, when so many parts of your soul are already dead?

Wiping my mouth off and dusting off my knees, I stood up and began to walk around aimlessly, stumbling through the crowds with nowhere to go. I thought that having my family here would change things, that seeing my ma and feeling her arms around me would fill the gaping hole in my chest. But something… someone was still missing, would always be missing.

I needed a beer.

Alcohol was obviously scarce in the compound, reserved mainly for the militia and the _slayers_ (I'll get more into that later). They'd come in from a hard day outside of the compound with their guns strapped to their sides and kick their feet up at some little tavern called Fanny's. It was their own personal oasis where the booze kept flowing and all I knew was that I, Number 6642, wasn't allowed in.

I knew all about shitty days and a shitty life, but apparently that wasn't enough to entitle me to one lousy wonderful holy beer.

Kicking a rock across the Hub, I figured my only option now was to go lie down in my bunk, just like every other day.

"Vanillllaaaa!"

…Or maybe not.


End file.
